


Children of the dust

by nharidy



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fellas is it gay to want to raise your dear friend's children alongside him, I have no idea, M/M, Misunderstanding of genes and how they work (but this is Andrés what do you expect), No Idea, Show typical violence and language, Terrible Parents, also slow burn? Really, crime family??, occasional bed sharing, someone please take custody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nharidy/pseuds/nharidy
Summary: "We have to meet him," he rubs his hands, grinning. Martín expects him to do a little jump."Them," he sighs.Andrés does the little jump. "What?"OrTwo mistakes from Martín's past show up and Andrés has ideas.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Original Female Character(s), Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 25
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

_ Fuck _

_ Fuck _

_ Fuck _

Martín rubbed his forehead, staring at the opposite wall.

_ Fuck _

Okay, this is  _ not _ his fault. Neither is it his responsibility in any way. 

And so what? So what? Many children have terrible childhoods. Hell, he had a terrible childhood. It's nothing special.

This has absolutely nothing to do with him.

Nothing. Nada.

_ Fuck _

"Martín"

Andrés is standing in front of him, hovering over him basically. 

"I've been standing here for 7 minutes", he had his hands on his hips, a gesture so foreign to the movements of his body, that Martín is sure he has picked it up from him. 

"Tell me, what is it?", Andrés demands.

He was on the verge of saying 'nothing', but he feels the need to say it, speak it into the universe so that he understands that it's real, not that what's unspoken is unreal, he knows so very well how more real than everything else it could be.

But still, Andrés  _ is  _ his friend. He should share his troubles with him, that's what friends are for. Or so he has heard. He doesn't actually know. He suspects that Andrés does either. He knows Andrés never had any real friends before him either, judging by how fucking weird he was when they had first met 4 years ago.

"There's something..", he starts. That's a wrong start.

Andrés occupies the armchair in front of him, he crosses his legs and leans back. Taking the full therapist pose. Perfect. 

Martín sighs.

"Well, I'm listening"

Martín sighs deeper.

"Okay, you see..", Martín pauses, rubs his eyes, "A long time ago, back home, while I was still not sure of many things"

Andrés nods at him to go on.

"I was still experimenting, you see", Martín says.

"You had an affair with a woman?", Andrés cuts to the chase.

"Not an affair, I slept with her once, and I did fine, I performed well, but as it turns out now,  _ too well _ "

Andrés' eyes widden, an amused, small grin split his face.

"I moved to Madrid for college right after, so I had no idea, obviously", Andrés nods frantically, his grin growing wider and wider. Martín wants to throw his mug at his face.

"You know where this is going", Martín slumbers back, rubbing his face.

Andrés spurts up, his grin eating his whole face.  _ Bastard.  _ Where is the comfort he thought would be given to him?

"We have to meet him", he rubs his hands, grinning. Martín expects him to do a little jump.

"Them", he sighs.

Andrés does the little jump. "What?"

"It's  _ them _ . Twins"

"Oh, Lord in Heaven! Mr. Boom Boom Ciao is a father of two", he wants to punch the amusement out of him. "Martín, we have to meet them, I have to see those little Martíns"

"First, I'm not a father of anything. Second, we're not meeting anyone"

Andrés sits down again and stares at him, his face growing expressionless.

"Well, if you got the news  _ now _ , then something must have happened. Did their mother die?", he raised his eyebrow.

"She died three years ago, and they stayed with their grandmother", Martín admitted, Andrés was still staring at him, pulling the words out of him, "Who died a week ago of today"

Andrés grinned again. "Well,.."

"Well, nothing. I've got nothing to do with them, it was one time, a single fucking time when I was 18, Andrés. I don't what their uncle expects now"

"You can do what you want, but have some dignity for once", Andrés grinned again, " you see, when I first discovered Sergio, I had a similar reaction, but everything changed when I saw him"

What? Is Andrés giving him parental advice now? What is this?

The bafflement must have shown on his face because Andrés started again "you have to meet them first and then we'll see"

"No"

______

Buenos Aires is as hot and loud as he remembers it. Good to know.

"Will you smile?", Andrés turned to him in the backseat of the taxi, Martín was leaning his head on the window and focusing on getting it hammered apparently. "You don't want your children to see you for the first time with that sour face", Andrés smirked.

"Don't call them that", Martín shrugged and jerked his head as if Andrès had thrown a dead rat at him.

Andrés laughed and turned to his own window, lowering it to get a scene at the city. It was annoyingly hot, but it was still as lively as he remembered it, they'll have time to revisit their favourite places before they go.

"We'll leave right away, Andrés. We still need to crack that case. I'll take a look at them, talk to their uncle, give them some money because this is surely what he wants, then we'll go"

"Sure", Andrés smiles at him and Martín doesn't return it.  _ Miserable little shit _ .

They dropped their luggage at the hotel, each took a shower. 

Martín moved the fork around in his plate absentmindedly. 

"Would you relax a little?", Martín spurted at him, turning to him, eyes wide, then leaned back and threw his poisonous smile at Andrés.

"Do you know what's great about being gay, Andrés?"

Andrés chuckled. Here we go.

"There's no primitive connection tying you, all women want in sex is to get to your genes, to get impregnated", Andrés was going to throw a snarky comment, but it wouldn't be true. It's not far-fetched that people would want Martín's genes. He's brilliant, a genius. He has never seen intelligence like his. And well, he's also objectively beautiful. Andrés has seen art masterpieces done on subjects that don't have half Martín's beauty. 

"Homosexual sex on the other hand", he continued, snapping Andrés out of his thoughts, "is all about desire, pure desire", he rolled his tongue, his lips turning up in smirk at Andrés. "It's all about freedom too, from the traps of biology, from empty social convictions to start a family", he shrugged, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out. "Which is simply repulsive"

"Well, you should have figured that out before you slept with her",he snapped, surprising himself with the harshness of his tone. Surprising Martín too apparently because he flinched and narrowed his eyes at Andrés, furrowning.

"Finish your lunch, we don't want to be late. It's rude"

"It's also rude calling a man out of nowhere to tell him this", Martín snarked. Bitter.

Andrés chuckled. "Eat"

They arrived at the house late in the evening. Martín checked the street and house number again against the little note in his hand, then rang the bell. 

A little girl, who couldn't be older than 10, opened the door.  _ Of course she couldn't be older than 10, that's her exact age _ .

She had an expressionless face, so unlike Martín whose face was always colored by emotions, but Andrés didn't doubt for a second that she's not his daughter. She had the exact same blue of his eyes, and even though she stood expressionless, Andrés took notice of her tightly set jaws, a hint of Martín's natural rage on her face. She had sleek black hair though, like Andrés' own, if he thought about it. It's a bit blacker, shins brighter as it's tied in one plait. She moved back a little and opened the door wider. She stood straight, holding her hands behind her back. Martín was standing still on his side, Andrés took a glimpse of him taking the girl in, when a boy came running to the door. He stood next to her, a huge toothless-grin on his face. His hair falling all over his face, two shades lighter than Martín's but the same texture.

_ He has Martín's smile _ .  _ Those are his children.  _

Andrés realized they have been standing silent staring at the children for a tad too long. They only needed a bible in their hands to look like two missionary creeps.

"Is this the Gonzales household?", he asked.

The girl looked between him and Martín. Darting her eyes between them for a moment, then squinted her eyes at Martín. 

"You're Mr. Berrote, I believe", the girl said, looking straight at him, and Andrés chuckled. "Come inside, we were waiting for you"

She turned around and walked down the hallway, the boy following her, but looking back at them as he walked, grinning widely. She has the color of Martín's eyes , but he has the shape, the whole face structure actually. Andrés wondered if Martín looked so small when he was this age. The girl wasn't small, she was tall and slightly broad, like Martín, but lean. She'll probably have a body more like Andrés' than Martín's when she's older.

He turned to smile at Martín who had his brows furrowed.

They followed her into the living room. Andrés took a look at the house, their uncle's. It was plain enough, even with the children it didn't have a sense of liveliness. It looked neither luxurious nor poor.

"Do you want something to drink?", she turned to them again and asked, gesturing for them to sit down. 

'Uh,..", Martín cleared his throat, "Just water, please"

She went to the fridge and took out a bottle, then went behind the counter and poured some in a glass. 

Andrés turned to Martín, who looked as if someone had hit him on the head. He just gaped at Andrés and shook his head softly.

She brought it to Martín, then started speaking.

"Tío is upstairs, we'll go bring him", she turned to her brother, who had already sat on the counter, _ That's Martín's _ .

"No, wait", Andrés stood up. "Come here", he gestured for her to move forward. The girl started at him, raising her chin.  _ Bratty little thing _ . He suppressed a chuckle. "Please", Andrés added, then the girl reluctantly moved forward. Andrés smiled and turned to Martín, who was looking at them. "You too", he turned to the boy, who jumped off and did a little run to them. Andrés walked back a little as they stood side by side. He raised his hand to his chin and studied them. 

"Martín", Martín sighed and stood up. Walking to him, he stood by Andrés' side. 

Andrés walked backwards a little and tried to put them all in the same frame, tilting his head.  _ Amazing _ . He grinned, shaking his head.

Martín looked so lost, glaring at Andrés.

The girl huffed up and started drumming her fingers on her thighs. Impatient. 

The boy was growing impatient too and spurted up. "So, you're our dad!", he exclaimed at Martín. 

Martín took a moment. "Biologically, yes", he said, then paused. "You know what biology is, right?"

"Of course we know what biology is, do we look like idiots to you?", the girl spat at Martín. Andrés chuckled and both the girl and Martín turned to him with matching glares.  _ Incredible _ .

"Ah, sorry", Martín started, dragging, but Andrés laughed, full-on-throwing-his-head backwards laughed. "Well, we know which one got your temper", he turned to him.

"Will you please stop talking about us if we're not here, señor?"

The boy went back to the counter. "Don't mind Elena, it's just everyone has been doing that for a week, we're in the room but they don't speak to us at all, as if we're invisible, then turn to each other and speak about us. It's really annoying", he pouted slightly, crossing his legs. 

"Elena", Martín repeats absentmindedly, turning the word in his mouth, "And what's your name?", he asks.

"Gabriel",  _ Gabriel _ . It seems old. Gabriel doesn't match such a small thing.

"Well,.uh, nice to meet you both,", Martín brushes his hair back, "You can call your uncle now"

The kids run upstairs leaving Martín and Andrés alone. Martín inhaled, shaking his head, as he might wake up from this somehow. Andrés couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

"Would you stop acting like this is the most amusing thing that happened all year?", Martín turned to him.

"Oh, but it is", Andrés smirked. "Calm down, will you? You're spreading the tension in the whole house, you know this is no environment for children"

Martín threw the armchair pillow at him. Andrés laughed and put it behind his back.

A moment later, a bulky man in his late 30s descended down the stairs. He approached them, wiped his hand on his thighs and stretched it out to them.

Andrés and Martín stood.

"Federico Gonazles"

Andrés shook his hand. "Andrés de Fonollosa".

The man took his hand to Martín. "And you must be Mr. Berrote"

"Please, call me Martín"

"Nice to meet you, please sit down. Can I bring you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea would be great. Black", Andrès said, and the man nodded, turning to Martín. "I'll have tea too"

The man brought the tray and put it down, then sat and leaned forward, rubbing his hands anxiously.

"First, I must thank you for coming right away, I can already see you're responsible", he awkwardly laughed, and Martín just nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "It all happened suddenly, trust me. My mother wasn't sick-"

"What happened to Maria?", Martín cut him off, impatient.  _ Maria _ . The name bothers him. He didn't think that Martín remembered her name anyway. With all his speeches on how this was a random one-time thing, Andrés had thought he had met her at a bar and hadn't bothered to learn her name, like the men he brings home.

"She died in a car accident 3 years ago, she wasn't even 25", he inhaled, eyes getting unfocused, then shook off his head. "The only thing that consoled my mother was the children"

"Why wasn't I informed?", Martín asked. 

Well, he was never the sentimental one.

"Of her death?"

"Of the children"

The man leaned back. "Ah, it was her decision with my mother. I never understood why, but she was sure you would want nothing to do with them"

"And she wasn't wrong", Martín snared. Andrés hit him lightly on the arm, then moved his hand to his back, just resting it there, to ground him.

"Apologizes, what Martín meant is that it's unfair to remain in the dark for so long"

The man nodded. "I'm sorry, you are..?"

"Martín's friend", he paused, "and business partner"

The man stared at him, as if he couldn't decipher what Andrés meant.

"Martín and I are close as brothers", Martín tensed under his touch, he turned to him slightly, then took his gaze to the man again and smiled. "What concerns him, concerns me'

"Of course", he nodded, but there was still a look of lack of understanding in his eyes.

"I'm sorry", Martín hastened, "But what exactly did you call me here for?"

"To arrange the situation of the children, of course. As you can see, you're their only remaining family", the man answered.

"Other than you", Martín said. The man just gaped at him.

Andrés started. "What about an aunt? A step-father?"

"No, it was only me and her, my parents had no other children. And she never got married, or even had a stable boyfriend, she raised the children by herself"

Andrés nodded. Martín rubbed his thumb over his lips.

Andrés decided to go outside for a smoke, and to give Martín a moment alone with his..brother-in-law? No, of course not, that man didn't deserve this title, he wasn't Martín's brother in any way. His children's uncle, yes.

The boy,  _ Gabriel _ , came out of the door, softly kicking a football around, going in circles around Andrés, lingering. Andrés waits.

"So who are you?", the boy asks at last.

"My name is Andrés de Fonollosa", Andrés says and the boy nods for a bit, then looks away, then turns to Andrés again. "Yeah, but who are you?"

Andrés stares at him. "Mr. Berrote is our father, and he's here because our grandmother is dead and we have no one, but you? Why did you come with him?"

He's starting to think they didn't expect him here. The boy has Martín's honesty at least.

"I'm his friend. His best-friend"

"Oh", he blinked at him. He shifted awkwardly, brushing his hair back.

"What do you mean you have no one? Don't you have your uncle", Andrés asked, testing the water again, although it was pretty clear by now.

"He says we can't live with him", the boy said, playing around with the ball, looking down on it.

Andrés hummed. He was about to annoy the boy some more or let him annoy him, but Martín's voice coming from the inside got louder, reaching him. The man raised his voice too, Andrés couldn't make exactly what they said, but they were arguing pretty heavily it seems. 

The boy stood still, his eyes squinted at the door. Andrés gave them a moment, but when it got worse, he made to open the back door and step inside, he knows how quickly simple arguments turn physical with Martín.

And as he expected, Martín was standing, balling his fists until the knuckles were shinny and white, the veins on his forehead popping out, his eyes wide. He was panting, vulgarities slipping out of his mouth. Andrés turned to the boy who stood in his shadow, just behind him. He rummaged in his wallet, and took out some bills. "Why don't you take your sister and go get some ice cream, hm?", the boy took the money and nodded. He walked to his sister, who stood in the hallway staring at the scene and whispered to her, she turned from him and looked at Andrés, who nodded at her sternly and she ran out with her brother.

Andrés took a few steps in and reached for Martín who was incomprehensible,"Now, now. Let's discuss this in a civilized manner, no?", Andrés said in a controlled tone, but his hold on Martín's shoulders was forceful.

"Listen, señor", the other man started, directing his speech at Martín, "We've left you out for 10 years, you haven't spent a single penny on them, you haven't taken care of them for a single hour. My sister and mother did it all, and now they're both dead, they're not travelling around having fun and dropping their responsibilities on other people's shoulders, they are dead. Dead. And those children don't have to be orphans because their father is alive and well, I love my niece and nephew to the moon and back, but I can't suddenly adopt them. It simply won't work"

"And I can? I didn't even know about their existence until three days ago. They don't even know me", Martín screamed.

"They are  _ your  _ children, your flesh and blood. Blood is stronger than distance and time", Andrés can see some truth in that. "We've already done enough sacrifices for them from our side. If you decide to give them up for an orphanage, then you do it. I'm sorry, but they are your responsibility now"

_ Asshole.  _ Martín would never take involvement in something like this.

Andrés saw how Martín was on the verge of lashing, but winced at the words. He took a breath

"I'll send them money, enough money, all their expenses"

The man raised his eyebrow. "Do you think all it takes to raise a child is money?"

Martín smiled, his most charming, fakest smile. "Of course not, but see, I travel for work all the time, I never stay in the same city for more than a couple of months. And delicate, young children like them need a stable home, a stable school. I can't give them that, and I would hate for them to get less than what they deserve. As I said, I'll send enough money to cover all expenses, whatever school you see fit-"

_ Delicate, young children. _

The man cut him off. "Señor, your case and mine are similar, I, too, travel around for work. And I'm married, and my wife and I have decided not to have children years ago, and as you understand, we like our lives the way it is, you can't expect me to threaten my career and my marriage, do you? And after all, a child's true place is with their father"

Martín sighed, rubbing his eyebrows ferociously. He was lost, Andrés realized. So he intervened.

"Well, how about the children stay with us over the summer, so we can test the water, and when the school year begins we could have another discussion over their permanent state, no?"

The man nodded, and Andrés made to smile at him, but Martín pulled his arm. "Can I have you for a minute?", he hastened and strode to the book door.

Andrés smiled at the man, then turned to follow Martín. He walked out and closed the door after him. 

Martín was marching around in little circles. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?", Andrés asked innocently.

"Stay with us  _ where _ , Andrés? What the hell are you doing? Did you forget about the work?", Martín panted.

"Not at all", he said, but Martín was still darting, moving erratically, so Andrés added, "quite the contrary, actually", he smirked.

Martín stood still and narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, two little children are the perfect remaining pieces of the puzzle to make the heist work", Martín gaped his mouth at him, then started shaking his head, but Andrés approached him, held his arms with both of his hands and looked him in the eyes. 

"Think about it, we've been working on this heist for a month, and it still wasn't working and we couldn't figure out what would make it all into pieces, they're perfect for it, Martín. Think, and after we'll figure out what to do",Martín shook his head, so Andrés cupped his face. "Think"

Martín stared at him for a moment, he saw how he initially tried to reject it, then his eyes got focused, Andrés could basically hear the thought process in his head.

It took him a minute before Martín grinned his devilish grin at him.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heists are planned and feelings are not realized. Pretty much every berlermo story I've wriiten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most out of character story I've ever written. I've tried, but like everything else, things get way more complicated when you throw up children in the mix. You'll have your old casual 9k words of bonding time, complete obliviousness and this year's award winners for worst parents to ever parent (and somehow still think they're the best at it). If you can't find a central tone, then that's probably because it's not there. It shifts moods three times in the same sentence (in my defense, this is probably what Andres' head is like)
> 
> Tw, general harsh, and sexist language (not that much, but it's still there), rendition of everyone's least favorite scene, slightly graphic description of violence. And well, misusage of children I suppose (more of that in the coming chapter though)
> 
> As always, I appreciate all feedback. Let me know what you think.

Andrés adjusted his hat, shifting to Martín, who remained staring at the door as if it were Pandora’s box.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” Martín repeated.

Despite the early morning, it was hot enough for Martín’s hair to stick to his forehead. Beads of sweat hung on his eyelashes. 

“Martín, you had little choice to begin with. What’s the alternative? You’re going to throw your own flesh and blood into the streets? Don’t you have any honor?” Andrés answered.

He whirled his head to Andrés, his face a study in fury. 

“Even if the heist works, even if we somehow manage to live with them throughout the summer, what will I do with them afterwards? Their uncle won’t take them back, Andrés. I’m not an idiot. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.” Even though there was a door between them, Martín was still whispering.

Andrés suspected he wasn’t even listening to him, missing the point of his argument altogether. Martín, Andrés, their uncle, the twins, their dead mother, their dead grandmother, and probably the neighbors all know the kids are never going back to their uncle, but it’s yet to truly sink in for Martin that this is to last.

Andrés doesn’t even recognize where the problem is. Children are easy to handle, and they grow up way too quickly. Martin is young. By the time his children are old enough to go out into the world on their own, he’ll still have his entire life ahead of him. In no time, they would be throwing Martin out of their house, claiming they’re old enough to live on their own, like ungrateful brats, when Martin would only be there to take care of them and what if he’s a little demanding, he gave his life to raise them right, what’s ‘some quiet for once’ against th-

“All my plans are ruined, everything. I might as well have been straight then-”

“Oh, will you stop complaining? You’ve been doing nothing but this for three days straight now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is the wreckage of my life uncomfortable to you? I’d like to hear what you’ll do if you discover you have two ten-year-old orphans to take care of,” he didn’t give Andrés a chance to speak, “I ejaculated once, Andrés, once. Two sperms, that’s it. How did I end up here? And how dare she not tell me? How dare she- “

“What?” Andrés cut him off, turning to him, his voice sharper than he intended, “How dare she what? Die?”

Martín looked away.

Andrés sighed. Martin pushed his hair back furiously, the anxiousness spreading in the enveloping air. He held both of Martín’s hands and twisted him to him. Both of their hands were sweaty. Disgusting.

“Look, Martín, chaos intrudes on our lives constantly. You can’t control everything that happens to you,” Martín sighed. “Your problem is that you think chaos is yours to inflect, that you have full control over when _you_ cause it or not, but this is not how life works,” Andrés said, his voice pressing and earnest, looking him in the eyes.

He let go of his hands and grasped Martín’s face instead.

“We can’t stop chaos, but we can arm ourselves with it. You know this too well. We’re going to use this to our best interests.”

Martín looked him in the eye for a long moment before nodding. He shifted to the door and took a deep breath then rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the boy opened the door. He smiled at them, but it wasn’t like his previous grin. There was something uncertain about it. Andres knew then how terrifying this must be for them; going away with strange men into a strange country after losing everything familiar to them.

“Hi,” he said, “are we leaving now?”

“Yes,” Andrés answered, “are you ready?”

“Yes. Come inside,” he ran down the corridor and they followed him.

They walked into the living room where their uncle was leaning on the counter, a punch of various papers in front of him. The living room was dim-lit, with the curtains drawn over the windows, and everything plainly in place. It looked like an abandoned house already, with none of the mysteriousness and ominous atmosphere. It was a house of ghosts just before the ghosts returned with their deformities, a haunted house just before the ghosts turned to ghosts. Soulless, empty, lifeless. Andrés couldn’t wait to take them away from here.

“Is everything ready?” Martín approached the man, drawing Andrés out of his thoughts.

“Yes. This is everything you’ll need, all their paperwork, they have their passports with them,” he handed Martín the papers, carefully stacked into two files. Martín put them into his own small suitcase. Federico turned to the boy standing behind them, “Gabriel, call your sister”

The boy ran upstairs. Andres turned his gaze to Federico. He stood, shifting slightly, uncomfortably. Andres didn’t break eye contact, as the man got visibly more and more uncomfortable. Good.

“Do you want to drink something before you go?” he shifted his body slightly to the kitchen, gesturing at it.

“No,” he said plainly, “we have a plane to catch,” Andrés added, before sitting down on the armchair, crossing his legs.

The man nodded awkwardly, then, probably to give himself something to do, walked to the stairs and called up the children. 

A moment later, the boy came running down, with his sister on his heels. She paused on the stairs and fastened her backpack around her shoulders. 

Their uncle kneeled slightly in front of the boy and ruffled his hair, smiling widely at him. The girl stood next to her brother as the man turned to her.

“If you need anything, tell your father and he’ll call me, alright? If you want to reach out for any reason, hm?” he smiled uncertainly at her. She didn’t return it. In fact, she was basically glaring at him, Andres could see how tightly she’s biting in her jaws, making her cheeks sharper. She looked like a dam barely suppressed.

“We won’t,” she answered.

“What?” her uncle asked, his smile faltering.

“We won’t want to reach out,” Martín’s made to intervene, but Andrés held him back before he said something to make it worse.

He also understood the girl’s anger well. How dare he just throw them away to some strangers like this. No matter how trustworthy. Martín could very well be a serial killer, a psychopath, or even a pedophile. Even if he was their biological father, this meant nothing. He could as well be a passing stranger on the street to the twins. Not that Andrés would let him have them even if he wanted to, but he should have wanted to.

“Ele-”, he started, but Martín cut him off. “Are you ready?”. The kids nodded, Martín and Andrés went to pick up their bags, where their uncle reached to the boy.

“Gaby, I know this is difficult for you, but things will get easier, alright? I wish you could stay with me too, but sometimes adults have to make tough decisions even if they don’t want to,” there was a hint of sincerity in his voice. It disgusted Andrés.

What Andrés has understood the past two days is that he wasn’t very close to the kids in the first place, nor to his sister and mother. He would only show up every couple of Christmases, would only call every other birthday. Maybe he was exaggerating to show Martín that he was no better fit than he is. Maybe not. Whatever the case, the bastard still is the closest thing the twins have to the family, still is the only familiar thing they have left. 

“Don’t worry, Tío, we don’t care. It doesn’t matter”, he smiled at him, sickeningly sweet, but not reaching his eyes. As cruel -and hurt- as his sister’s words, just a different manner.

Federico shifted awkwardly between the boy’s smile and Andrés’ glare, trying to escape them. Andrés huffed and moved to hold a grip over the boy’s shoulder, leading him out. Martín tilted his head at the girl and gestured for her to move forward as he followed with her bags.

The taxi-ride was quiet and awkward. The airport waiting was quiet and awkward. The plane ride was a mess because it turns out, they are actual children who fight, grapple, and sit restlessly like the other children. Martín’s face reddened in embarrassment and anger every time another passenger as much as muttered under their breath. Definitely not being used on being on the other end of this. Andrés had to accidentally spill his soup on some bastard. And it brought the first genuine smile out of Martín in the last few days.

At some point Martín left his place on Andrés’ side to replace seats with the boy just to separate the kids. Not only was Andrés deprived of his conversation partner, but it also made things worse as now with more space between them, their voices got even louder. The twins made a point of not listening to Martín and Andrés, acting out more every time they were told to stop.

“Do you want to sit by the window?” Andrés turned to the boy softly, forcing patience into his voice.

He just stared at Andrés for seconds, then shrugged. Andrés quietly exchanged seats with him. Then started telling him about the countries they passed. Gabriel listened quietly, rarely making comments, but stopped his shouting matches with his sister, who didn’t try to interrupt Andrés once she couldn’t get a reaction from Gabriel.

She had exhausted herself quite a bit it seems, as she fell asleep in her seat. Her lips slightly parted and her head hanging heavily in the air before finding Martin’s arm. Andres glanced as he turned to her with a frown itched on his face, then visibly freezing in his seat, making the effort to avoid moving a muscle. 

With the girl asleep and the boy quietly watching the clouds, quietness grew between them again. Andrés smiled at Martín.

Andrés glared at Martín for the third time in the taxi ride home. As he couldn’t stop stressing to the kids that this isn’t permanent. Andres wondered where Martin's subtlety suddenly flew to. The heist depended on the children trusting them. Andrés’s certain this is not the way to do it.

At the apartment’s door, Andrés turned and glanced the sleeping mess all three of them were. Hewalked inside then turned around and smiled widely at them, opening his arms.

“Welcome home,”

All three of them stared at him expressionlessly. Until Gabriel, god bless him, gave him the fakest smile Andrés had ever witnessed. He appreciates the effort, but his acting skills will have to get better if the heist’s to work.

They both sauntered inside, turning around to see to take in the whole place. Andres turned on the lights.

The girl rubbed her eyes as her brother ran to the tall windows and leaned to look through the glass. They lived on a top floor, and the building itself was in a central place, so they looked upon the entire city. Luminous from the windows. He grinned widely as he looked.

“Where’s our room?” Elena asked, her bloodshot blue eyes a matching of Martín’s.

Martín rubbed his eyes, brushing his hair back. He sighed. Martín’s room would work well, but Andrés wishes they could have prepared the place before they left.

Andrés nudged his head at Martín, who started waking them to his bedroom. Andrés walked into his own bedroom and took a long, cold shower; washing Buenos Aires’ heat off his skin.

He decided against putting on his robe and put on another suit instead. He walked out to Martín staring absentmindedly at the turned off television. A deep frown on his tired face. He glanced up at Andrés as he passed him.

“Oh, you’re finally out. I’ll call them out for dinner,” he nudged with his head towards the dinner table. 

Andrés looked, then turned to him. “What’s this?”

Martín stared up at him. “Burgers.”

“No”

“I’m pretty sure it is”

Andrés rolled his eyes. “I meant no, this is not what they’re eating their first night here”

He strode to the table and took the unopened bags, then walked into the kitchen and threw them in the trash. Martín followed him, only to sigh loudly at his back. Andrés opened up the freezer and started pulling.

“Andrés,” Martín whined, “it’s really not worth it, we could just have a quick dinner, and we can have something better tomorrow. It has been a long day”

Andrés didn’t turn to him as he pulled out different pans, and repeated his ‘no’.

“Go take a shower.”

Martin didn’t argue. A moment later, the kids got out and sat on the couch. Andres glanced at them from behind the counter. There was none of their plane brashness now. They sat quietly under the soft light, huddled into themselves. They looked tiny amidst the vastness of the apartment. Andrés could basically smell their fear and anxiety. An exciting smell usually, now more offending than anything else coming from Martín’s children.

When Martín came out, his hair dripping onto his forehead and wetting the collar of his shirt, he didn’t even glance at them as he walked to Andrés in the kitchen. As if he refused to look at them, they would disappear.

“Put on some music, would you?” Andrés asked, to stop his complaining over Andrés not being done yet before it even started. He took another glance at the kids, Elena had nodded off on the couch, and Gabriel was biting his nails staring at the wall. Her wet hair would splotch the couch, but he decided against waking her up to tell her so.

It took him another twenty minutes to finish. He called Martín to help set the table.

“You didn’t have to do all of this, Andrés. It’s too much for children,” he said, carrying the plates to the table.

“Jesus, Andrés, that’s more than enough, we’re not having a feast,” he added, carrying more plates.

“Make yourself useful and bring out a bottle of wine,”

He went to, muttering on where Andrés brought all of this energy. Andres smiled at the table set perfectly, then adjusted the lights and called the kids, who dragged themselves to him. Martín poured wine for the both of them.

Even with Andrés’ encouragement, the kids only nipped at their food, despite how hungry they must be after the long flight and how good Andrés’ cooking is and the quality of the food. Watching them huddled in their chairs, averting his gaze, Andrés is reminded of Sergio when they have first met. The kids, even Gabriel, aren’t as abnormally small for their age as Sergio was, but they carry a similar sense of distress and awkwardness. Of grief, too.

That’s where the similarities between his first night with Sergio and his first night with them end. Which is a good thing.

“We’ve a grand plan for your summer, you’re going to have tons of fun, right Martin?” he said, smiling at them.

Martín nodded at them, pouring more wine in his glass. “It’s going to be a lot of fun”

“What plan?”, Gabriel asked.

“What if we want to do something else?”, Elena asked.

“Something else like what?”, Andrés asked patiently. As Martín said with a slight snap, “You don’t even know what it is.”

“Like go to the beach”, she answered, after glaring at her father for a few seconds, and her brother nodded frantically.

“We can go to the beach and do that too,” Andrés said.

“Can we go tomorrow?” Gabriel asked, his mouth full.

“Not tomorrow, your father and I have work to do,” Andrés said.

“When can we go then?”, the boy asked at the same time the girl said, “what kind of work do you do?”

Well, they certainly aren’t either quiet or shy like Sergio was. Still, Andrés appreciates their method of asking directly than the shenanigans Sergio was up to.

Martín swallowed the rest of his glass before answering, “We’ll see about that later, Gabriel. And I’m an engineer, and uh..Andrés is a businessman”

“Can we go on the weekend?”, the kid insisted. Well, he’s got Martín’s persistence.

“We’ll see”, Martín repeated. Andrés could see that they had more questions, but were tired, or didn’t know how to word their confusion. They finished eating quietly and Andrés sent them to sleep. 

“We’ll have to change the other parts of the plan too. Scrap it all and start from scratch,” Andrés said and Martín nodded, yawning.

Andrés followed him into the living room, where Martín was spreading a blanket on the couch.

“What are you doing?”, Andrés asked.

“What?” Martín turned to him.

“What are you doing sleeping on the couch?”

“Well, I can’t exactly share a bed with them,” Martín snickered.

Andrés huffed up. “Of course not, idiot. You’ll share one with me”

Martín stopped in his tracks. He didn’t turn to face Andrés.

“They’ll be here for months. I won’t let you break your back”

“Andrés, they’re my problem, I’ll handle it. I don’t want to disturb your life even more,” he said, Andrés is surprised to find seriousness in his tone.

“Sharing a bed is hardly disturbing anything, let alone my entire life. Stop being dramatic for once in your life,”

Martín started with a ‘but’, but Andrés grappled his shoulder and pushed him. He doesn’t even mind sleeping next to Martín, he doesn’t understand why he’s making a big deal out of it.

Andrés took off his suit and threw himself on the bed. Martín wasn’t looking at him.

“Which one do you like better?”, Andrés asked.

Martín had his back to him, taking off his jeans. He turned to him, throwing them on the chair. He stood in a tight boxer. He has peculiar thighs, Andrés reminisced, they are both muscular and soft, to the look at least, sculpted; somewhat like Bernini’s _David_. 

“I don’t like either of them”, he spit out in the middle of a yawn, he threw himself on the bed in his wife-beater.

Andrés chuckled. “The girl is more like you.”

Martín turned to him, his eyebrow raised. 

“Is she?” he smirked, his eyes fluttering shut. “She reminds me of her mother.”

“She is,” Andrés insisted, “a lot.” He ignored his comment, she _is_ like Martín. Completely.

“If you say so,” Martín said, eyes already closed. Andrés was ready to defend his argument, but he’ll let him sleep. He had barely gotten any sleep at all the past few days, Andrés could hear him in the hotel wing getting up in the middle of the night and taking into the streets. 

It took seconds for Martín to drop asleep, facing Andrés and huddling onto himself. He had his mouth parted slightly, and his hair scattered, falling lightly over his eyes. His face was half-illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window. Andrés reached to brush his hair back, Martín stirred slightly, turning his face into Andrés’ palm. And something tugged at Andrés’ heart. Maybe it was how vulnerable he looked, undressed from his arrogance and rage. How open. Andrés could do whatever he wanted to him, he realized. He was defenceless, armless, and open. 

He pulled up the covers over him.

______________

He woke up like he normally does, before sunrise. He took a shower and went out of the room quietly, Martín was still deeply asleep. This is why he was surprised when he went into the living room and found Elena huddled on the sofa, her face illuminated by the whitish light from the tv in front of her. 

“Why are you awake so early?” he asked, and she jolted up, turning to him. She looked at him for a second, then shrugged. 

“It’s summer, you could sleep as late as you want,” he said.

“I know, I like waking up ear-“ she paused, “actually, I wasn’t very comfortable sleeping next to Gabby”, she pouted slightly. Andrés laughed. 

“Hmm, is that so? We’ll have to do something about it, then”, he said, walking to the kitchen. She jumped from the couch and came after him, settling on the high-stools in front of the counter.

“It wasn’t that comfortable sharing a room with him either,” she said and Andrés chuckled. 

“Now, don’t overdo it”, he smirked at her, preparing the coffee pot. He glanced at her over his shoulder, “What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry yet.”

“Do you want to drink something then? Milk or juice?”, Andrés insisted. He couldn’t tell whether she really wanted nothing or was shy.

She hummed. “Do you have mate?”

Andrés snickered. “Aren’t you a little young for caffeine?”

She shook her head. “I drink it at home all the time”, Andrés narrowed his eyes at her. “I swear,” she added.

He nodded and took off Martín’s ceramic gourd and bombilla from the cabinet. After filling it with the hot water and yerba, he handed it to her. Then grabbed a packaged pastry and passed it to her as well. 

“Clean it after you’re done, it’s your father’s”

She nodded. “He doesn’t like it when you call him that”, she said, opening her pastry. “He makes a face when you do,” she mimicked Martín’s facial expression. Her mimicking skills weren’t the best, but with her brows furrowed and her lips twisted, she resembled Martín more and more.

“He’s not used to it, it’s new, that’s all”

Grabbing his own coffee, and walking to the couch, he reached with his other hand to grab the book he had left by the television.

A while later, Elena settled next to him. It’s not like he expected her to be a bother or annoying, but he’s surprised to find how quietly she settled next to him, sharing his comfortable silence. He’s already optimistic about the heist.

A couple of hours later, when Andrés was already having his second cup of coffee, and Elena was watching a rerun of some Telenovela, Martín dragged himself out of the room. He scratched his head and rubbed his eyes as he walked towards them.

“Morning,” Andrés smiled and Martín hummed in response, slumbering down next to him and reaching to take Andrés’ coffee. 

“Watch cartoons better. What are you watching this shit for?” Martín grimaced at the girl who turned to him with an intense glare. Apparently, he has finally decided to be a parent at nine in the morning.

When the boy woke up, Andrés made them all proper breakfast. He drew the curtains back and let the sunlight fill the whole place. He put on some lively music as well. It made the atmosphere lighter, just as he expected. The awkwardness was still there between them, however. The tension as well. Even Elena grew more tense than when it was just the both of them. In the presence of her father, she was both more alert and more timid. She only glared at Martín when he talked to her as if she held some personal grudge against him. But Andrés also noticed the slight disappointment on her face when Martín would turn from her to something else. He noticed her stare at him as if trying to quietly get his attention to speak to her again. If Martín noticed, he acted nothing like it. Andrés had never seen him so quiet. Martín had never averted his eyes from anyone, never showed fear or intimidation. In those moments, he averted his children’s eyes.

It was strange for Andrés as well. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with them. In the back of his head, he was aware that there should be some sort of ceremony, some mark for this change. Martín wasn’t in the same position as Andrés when he had first got Sergio. He could give them more. And more than that, he despised looking into Martín’s eyes and features in the faces of his children and only be met with a lack of recognition, and mistrust.

Martín got up to clean after breakfast and Andrés took the chance to give the twins a proper tour of the place. Despite the general vastness of the apartment, it’s not designed with families in mind. When Andrés had first got it for him and Martín, neither had any idea that it would come to house children. They’ll have to redistribute certain things to make it work for the coming months.

Their now room wasn’t appropriate for children to do anything else except sleep in it. So Andrés left them watching television in the living room before taking to the study room where Martín was waiting for him.

He glanced up at him from the documents he had all over the desk, biting his nails. He seemed disturbed, uncertain, which was an alarming sight. Martín was never as certain as during planning, never as glorious as amidst his work.

“You were right, we have to scrap everything.”

Andrés nodded as he closed the door behind him and moved to pour some wine for himself. Martín had already emptied his glass, so Andrés poured him some more.

He took a sip, leaning back against the wall. Martín had more in his throat.

“We could revert to the oldest tricks in the book. The simplest answer here could be the right one,” he said, scrapping with his pencil.

“I had this in mind, yes.”

Martín sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. “But it’s too much risk.”

“Since when risks bother you?”

“No, this is different, Andrés,” he said quietly, shaking his head, “this is a completely unfamiliar territory. Relying on two children is a completely different sort of risk.”

“We’ll train them,”

He shook his head even more, the frustration on his face sinking deeper and deeper, as if Andrés couldn’t possibly understand what he was talking about.

“No, Andrés. They are too young-”

“Better then, the younger, the more malleable-”

“And we can’t trick them, we can’t make it seem as if it were something else. If we were to do it right, then we would have to explain exactly what they’re doing, to reduce the risks,”

“Of course,” Andrés affirmed.

“No, no,” he whined, twisting his face, “what the hell will we do with that after it’s over, Andrés? What if they go to the police, what if they were found out? What if they told their uncle after,” he paused, “or anyone else?”

“First, your ten-year-old children will definitely not report us to the police. Second, when will they even see their uncle? They’ll run away with us after.”

Martín made to argue, but Andrés stopped him.

“We’ll deal with those details after the heist, no need to fuss over them now,” Martín looked at him uncertainly, “we’ll deal with it, whatever happens. Trust me,”

Martín nodded, and as if to mark the transition, he shook his head and smiled. “Fine, fine,”

“So tell me,” Andrés grinned.

“I’m thinking of something so simple; basic distraction techniques. No one will think someone would steal something so valuable this way. And this is how we’ll get away with it,”

The day whisked away as the plan started to take shape. And Martín’s worries whisked away as they spent more time with the plan. As always he forgot himself and his troubles in the work. The twins aren’t disturbing as well, which has probably helped Martín forget about their existence for a few hours.

But later in the evening, Andrés took them out to dinner. Gabriel was excited to see the city, which is a significant sign of interest in travelling. Not that Martín doesn’t enjoy travelling, but this is definitely an Andrés’ thing. Which he made sure to point out to Martín, who only stared at him with furrowed brows.

The twins are underdressed for the fancy restaurant he took them to, and against Andrés and Martín’s suits. But they know their table manners and eating etiquettes well. Maybe this is just how children normally dress. But it’s unacceptable to Andrés, he’ll have to take them shopping later. They must do that anyhow for the heist.

And even if they give them back in the end, Andrés would like the few months with him and Martín to be memorable.

Andrés let them order what they wanted, with a few additions of his suggestions. The boy has Martín’s attachment to lobsters. He didn’t even touch what Andrés had ordered for him, except once to affirm to Andrés that he liked it very much, thank you. They all ate quietly aside from a few speeches from Andrés and some attempted awkward jokes from Gabriel.

“Do you want more dessert?” Andrés grinned, and they nodded before Martín ruined the moment.

“No, you’ll get sick,” he turned to Andrés and whispered. “What’s wrong with you?”

The server placed their second servings on the table. Andres turned to Martín with a victorious grin mirrored by the twins. Martín sighed and shook his head.

“You don’t get to complain if they throw up all over the apartment, and you’ll clean it yourself.”

Andrés shrugged him off with his hand and took a bite from his cake. The twins laughed and went on eating exaggeratedly, only to bother Martín -he knows-, stuffing the food in their mouths.

“Easy now, you’ve ruined your face, Elena,” he said, laughing, “clean it up.”

He passed her the napkin and watched her make a bigger mess.

Martin cackled on his side, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Enjoy.” he wiggled his eyebrow.

“Give me.” he stretched his arms across the table, setting up slightly, “Here,” She sat still as he wiped her face. “Perfect.”

He was drawn out of Martín and Gabriel’s laughter by another sort of laughter; mocking; too familiar to him. Andrés recognized it before he turned slightly to see its source. A man passing by them, who didn’t even have the decency to stop his hawking when Andrés noticed him.

“So, uh,” Gabriel started, and Andrés sat down again, turning to them. He was talking to Martín, who looked away from Andrés after a knowing look. The slight sourness on his face that anyone else would have missed proved that he noticed as well. He stared at Gabriel for a few seconds before clearly realizing the boy wanted to tell him something and didn’t know how to address him.

“You can call me Martín,”

Elena threw a glance at Andres. At once, hurt and smug, one that spelled, _‘Told you so’_.

“Yeah, okay, what is the plan you told us about?” Gabriel went on.

Martin scratched his hair, looking beyond them. “Have you ever done plays in school?”

The twins shook their heads. “Well, it’s something like a play. You’ll get to dress up and have rehearsals, then you’ll act something in front of people.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Elena said, crossing her arms.

Martín snapped. The anger that didn’t match the child’s simple reaction seeping out. “What the hell do you want then?”

She shouted back, throwing her fork on her plate. “I want to go home.”

Martín stared at her for a second. “To whom? hm? Your uncle doesn’t want you, and the rest of your family is dead, you don’t have anyw-”

“Martín,” Andrés warned. But his eyes weren’t on him. His gaze dragged after the man as he got up from his table and walked to the bathroom. “Excuse me,” he nodded to them, sliding his fork in his pocket, and got up. Martín gave him a small nod. He’ll leave him to deal with his daughter. He’s got something else to do.

Nothing is as pleasurable to Andrés than the replacement of mockery with terror in the eyes of those who thought they can get away with ridiculing him. For his own enjoyment, he lets the man think he can fight his way out. Andrés laughed as he tried to throw a punch.

At last, he pushed him in one of the stalls and shut the door with his leg as he closed on to him in the small space. He didn’t have all day before someone came in and sensed something wrong.

“Tranquila,” Andrés hissed, “your screams will only make it worse.” He dived in his fork in the delicate flesh. 

“Shh, we can’t have you screaming like a woman, wouldn’t you like to keep some of your decency?” his grin was reflected in the pig’s wide pupils, he stabbed him again, “hm?”

Andrés hummed as he soaped his hands, trying to get the blood from under his fingernails. He frowned at it, not sure how it got there. Anyhow, he cleaned his hands quite well, his humming mixing with the man’s whimpers. He took one last look at him, half-sitting, half-laying beside the toilet, huddled in his own pool of sweat and blood, then closed the stall and walked out.

Martín was already placing the cash within the check. He took a look at Andrés and ordered the twins up. Andrés smiled at the hostess at the front door as they went out.

From the tension in the car, Andrés understood Martín hadn’t resolved matters with Elena. She crossed her arms in the backseat as she stared out of the window, her twin glancing timidly at her every once in a while. When they reached home, she strode to her room and slammed the door.

Andrés took a long shower. The goddamn rotten blood was still under his fingernails. How the fuck did it get there? When he got out, Martín was lying on the bed, still in his suit and his head against his crossed arms and his gaze further than the opposite wall. He got up and got it in the bathroom as Andrés took to the living room. The lights were off, but he still saw Gabriel perched on the couch.

He sat next to him. “Why aren’t you in your room?”

“El locked the door,”

Andrés laughed in spite of himself. “Women are like that,”

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s fine, it’s just Elena. She’ll open it in a bit,”

He didn’t seem bothered at all. “What about you?”

“I’ll just watch-”

“Aren’t you bothered by what your father has said?”

The boy tensed slightly, then shrugged. “He didn’t say anything untrue.”

This was seemingly enough for it to be acceptable for Martín’s boy. Whether or not he likes to admit it, his children were more like him than he realized.

Andrés let him be and went to sleep.

The second morning wasn’t much different than the first one. He woke up to find Elena already awake. She huddled on herself and said nothing, visibly still bothered from her fight with Martín. He made her mate and himself coffee. The rest of the day repeated itself as Martín and he went on to work on the plan. Andrés assured him that he’ll take care of the situation with the girl and that he only needs to worry about the plan. So they’ve worked peacefully for the most part of the week.

Martín’s state was strange to say the least. At no point during the period they knew each other has Martín resisted anything so much. Whatever happened to them, he had always swallowed it and moved to work with what he had left. Whatever disaster, whatever pain, he admirably carried any and everything. This time it’s like he accepts it one moment in the mannar of a man who stays in his nightmare long enough that it ceases to be a nightmare, then he rejects it completely again in the next moment, as if suddenly woken from it only for long enough to witness reality and lose his immunity against the nightmare before getting thrown in it again.

And despite everything, he was shutting Andrés out. For the first time in their friendship, Martín refused to speak, refused to voice what truly plagued him about the situation. Andrés wanted nothing but to reach his hand and plunge him out of the hole he refused to even glance up at Andrés from. But to his dismay, he had to admit that he had no idea how to.

He came back home from a date one day to find him perched on the desk, arrays of papers in front of him. Upon closer inspection, Andrés noticed that they were the children’s.

He didn’t acknowledge Andrés when he got in. Martín sighed deeply, and looking up, he said. “They’re too old for adoption, aren’t they?”

“Martín-“

“No family will take a ten-year-old child, and even if they did, they wouldn’t take two.” he rubbed his eyebrows. “I don’t think they should be separated.”

“No, they shouldn’t be.” he affirmed quietly.

This was a meaningless point. Andrés knows he would never put them in foster care or give them away to anyone. But this is Martín, and this is how his mind works. He needs to rule out every other option, put logical reasons in his head why it wouldn’t work, before arriving at the last one. Even if it was clearly there, glaring at them from the start, Martín will need his time. His technical mind just has to dissect everything first.

The twins kept mostly to themselves as the older men worked, rarely disturbing them. Elena had apparently sworn not to speak to Martín. For his part, Martín had let her keep her grudge, rarely approaching her. Andrés noticed that it bothered him, however. Martín doesn’t like to be ignored and Andrés knows that he’s shouldering the guilt for how he spoke to her. He was slightly nicer to Gabriel after, and Andrés saw his glance turn to her when he joked with him, hoping that she'd join them. But she was even more stubborn than Martín was.

Still, Andrés knows that it’ll work. The children, strangers as they are, are still Martín’s. He has no doubt they’re the most perfect for this. And whatever personal issues they have, they’ll be resolved before the heist.

And he was even more affirmed a few days later. At some point while they were planning late in the afternoon, Andrés got up to go bring them coffee, and he paused, hovering over the girl who laid on her stomach on the floor, snipping away with a pencil in what appears to be a workbook for geometry.

“Why are you doing homework during the summer?”, he asked.

‘It’s not homew-,” she started, before getting interrupted by her brother, “because she’s a nerd”

“Hey! Don’t call your sister a nerd.”

He turned at Martín’s voice, walking after him. He took a few steps to Gabriel, and hunched on the ground near him, kneeling. 

“Do you know how all of this luxury you’re enjoying now came to be?” he asked, gesturing around to the apartment around them. It was a fairly luxurious place, in a prestigious spot in the city. “Hm? It’s all here because I used to study just as much when I was your age.”

The boy just stared at Martín, not moved or persuaded the least by appearance. Andrés glanced at Elena, who had a smug look painted on her, leaning back on her elbows and wiggling her eyebrows at her brother. Martín glanced at her and smiled. A smile resembling relief.

“So if you don’t want to end up in the streets after she tires of helping you financially for years, you’d better study too,” Martín went on.

Andrés laughed. The big and little asshole are teaming up on the boy. “Don’t listen to him, I didn’t study at all and I have just as much money as he does”

Martín raised his eyebrow and slowly got up. “Only because you have me,” he smirked, sauntering to him. Then waved away with his hand, “Fine, and Sergio as well.” The orangish light of the living room set in his eyes, giving them a fiery glint. Andrés breathed.

“The trick is,” Andrés walked to the boy, escaping Martín, “be nice to your sister, as long as she likes you, you’ll be fine,” he grinned, “trust me” 

The boy rolled his eyes in response. His twin stuck out her tongue. Martín stooped down by her side, asking about her answers in a quiet tone. She only reluctantly responded at first, but soon gave in.

Andrés turned to the boy. “if that’s what she likes, what do you like?”

He shrugged. “Nothing”

“No one likes nothing, do you like literature?” he asked

“No,” he answered simply.

“No? That might me because you haven’t read the right book yet,” Andrés insisted.

Gabriel hummed. “I don’t know, I don’t enjoy reading, it’s boring”

Andrés crossed his arms and the kid just stared at him, nonchalantly. “Do you know what Carlos Ruiz Zafón said? ‘Books are mirrors: you only see in them what you already have inside you’, are you boring?”

Gabriel squinted at him, not affected by Andrés’ gaze at all. 

Andrés sighed. “Do you like to paint?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know how to,”

“I could teach you.”

“No, thank you.”

Andrés sighed deeper. Then walked away. He took a glance at Martín huddled by his daughter’s side on the floor, scraping with the pencil on her textbook while she went on nodding, fixated on his notes.

He left them be and went to run some errands. A walk in the city was much needed anyway. He could easily imagine the three of them home alone, the children unable to resist Martín’s warmth, Martín unable to resist his blood calling to him.

It was also easy imagining them without Andrés. 

He decided to pass by Marianne, he hadn’t seen her since they got the call from Buenos Aires. As always, she opened up her arms widely for him, then her legs. He spent the night between them.

They spent the next weeks focusing on the plan. The kids were bored, Andrés took them to eat out once every couple of nights. At Gabriel’s insistence, they spent an uncomfortable morning on the beach. They settled into their lives there, got used to an extent to the place, to Andrés and Martín’s presence. They were still hostile, but Andrés took it as a sign of intelligence, caution. All in all, the four of them fell into a comfortable rhythm; Andrés and Elena wake up early, they share their hot beverages together, have a civil little chat, then Martín and Gabriel wake up, they all have breakfast, Martín and Andrés get to work while the kids busy themselves whatever way, Andrés or Martín make dinner, they share it together and spend the rest of the evening as well, then they all go to sleep.

Means the kids fell into their lives easily. Once they finish sketching the entire plan perfectly and the children’s role in it. They’ll start training them.

For the plan, Andrés avoided sleeping out for longer than a night. Marianne was full of complaints, but a night full of attention usually quieted her down. She was completely in love with Andrés, he didn’t need to worry about her. It was all perfect between them really. Andrés knows that it won’t be long before he purposes. She was definitely the one. 

She was definitely less demanding than Elena, who reprimanded Andrés with looks and silence every morning he comes back after spending the night out, despite him coming back early enough to share the morning with her anyway.

It got easier, lighter between them. Martín’s attitude with the twins didn’t completely shift, and Andrés still noticed his troubles; his far-away gaze, his frequent drinking. He would be completely fine, then would lose his mind over something insignificant. Like the one time, Andrés brought up replacing the big bed in Martín’s previous bedroom with two small ones and Martín rejected vehemently. As if readjusting the bedroom would make the situation with the children more real than it was. At the end, Andrés got his way. There’s nothing easier than changing and changing back bedrooms. Two small beds are as easy to throw away as one big one. It didn’t change anything except make it more appropriate for the twins.

He could now understand Martín more, however. One small change led to the readjustment of the entire apartment. Not that the twins’ beds were what did that, Andrés was still right. It was Martín’s insistence to take his previous bed back and move it to the study room. The bed, naturally, was too big for it and they had to take out the bookcase, the desk, the blackboard and everything else. Now not only does the living room hold all of that, but they also have to work in it, while the twins scream and shout over the playstation Andrés made the mistake of buying them before this change. And suddenly, Andrés’ vast apartment was no longer vast. 

Martín and Andrés went up to bring old documents belonging to a similar heist from the attic. Martin wanted to check a connection that nudged at him. Andrés waited for him by the ladder, but Martín didn’t disappear up, he stood still on the ladder, his face up. 

"What's taking you so long?" he jolted up at Andrés' voice. He looked down and started climbing down.

"Gabriel is up. Reading. Did you give him the book?", Andrés nodded, reaching his hand to Martín.

Martín chuckled. "Why would you give Camus to a child? You failed with bringing up Sergio to be like you and having a second trial?"

Andrés feigned glaring at him. "He should have something to do, before he starts getting bored."

"Andrés. Maybe in a few years, but now don't give a ten year old child _The Myth of Sisyphus_ , we don't want him to have his first existential crises just yet.”

"He's had his first at seven actually,” they both turned to the sound of the girl, he hadn't noticed nor _heard_ her approaching them. Judging from Martín’s expressions, neither had he.

Stealth. He likes that.

"What happened at seven?", Martín asked the stupidest question even a man with a quarter of his intelligence wouldn’t ask, "oh,..,” he added right away.

Andrés breathed. They have been ignoring the topic for a long while now, he knew sooner or later it would come up. He gave himself a moment to compose something, then started. "Well, Elena, death is-"

"We know what death is,” she interrupted and turned to walk away.

Andrés wasn’t easy to anger, but he was no longer amused with her. He released the clinch on his jaws and turned to Martín. 

"You need to teach your daughter some manners,” he crossed his arms.

"Fuck off,” he turned from him as well.

Brats. Both of them.

He didn’t speak to her for the rest of the day, he had to get out later anyway to check on the necklace, and he spent the rest of the night in the makeshift workshop with Juan. When he came back, even Martín was fast asleep in his room. After sleeping on his side for weeks, Andrés wasn’t used to the sudden emptiness in his bed.

It was the next morning when Andrés woke up and found her awake as he expected. It became somewhat of a little ritual between them. Neither Martín nor Sergio, the only two people he lived with over an extended period of time since childhood, wake up before noon if they have the choice. And Andrés liked his time alone in the morning, he enjoys the tranquility, the beauty of the world between consciousness and unconsciousness. But Elena hasn't been a nuisance presence. She usually stays quiet, not disturbing him, but not ignorable either. She quietly entered his little bubble and shared it with him.

He heated water for her _mate_ and put on his own coffee then turned to her. She wasn't looking at him, darting her eyes all over the apartment around her. The apartment she has been living in for nearly two months now; there is nothing new to see. Andrés put her drink quietly in front of her, while she fumbled with her nails, and turned to pour his own coffee. Andrés recognized Martín's manner of carrying guilt on her.

"Do you want some?" she asked quietly, and Andrés turned to her, raising his eyebrow. She held the gourd, jiggled it slightly to him.

Andrés frowned. He doesn't want to share a child's germs, but Elena's eyes were glinting; apologetic and he remembered something Martín had said about how sharing _mate_ is all about sharing a moment; a sign of respect; a sign of considering the other family.

He reached out and took it. He sipped a bit then smiled at her. She returned it timidly. He gave it back with a 'thank you'.

"I've lost my mother when I was very young too", he said after a quiet moment and she frowned at him. "The grief, the sadness, the pain, it doesn't have to be the weakness you think it is"

She sat still, her face and gaze slightly downwards. Andrés leaned forward on the counter, until there were only inches between them, and tipped her chin up with his fingers.

"They'll think it's your Achilles' heel, but you can make an armor of it all", she inhaled deeply, "Do you understand?"

She nodded and Andrés smiled. He was about to walk away to his armchair, before she spoke again.

"I can’t remember her too well," Andrés let her speak. “I have to bring out pictures to remember how she looked exactly, or video recordings to remember her voice,”

There’s much Andrés could say,

 _‘that’s the natural order of things’_ , 

_‘you can let her go. No one will hold it against you’_ , 

_‘her looks and voice aren’t what matters, you’ll always remember what she was to you’_

But every one of them sounded wrong to him. They seemed rehearsed, phrases said in moving scenes in films, and the child setting in front of him looked way too real. 

More than a decade later, and he still doesn’t know what to say to a grieving child. Granted, it’s not a skill he thought he would have to use more than once, and even that once was a surprise.

“I didn’t know your mother, but something tells me she would forgive you this,”

She smiled quietly at him.

Andrés took a deep breath. “You know, Martín says you’re a lot like her,” 

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Grandma used to say it’s Gabriel who’s the most like her,”

“You both could be. In different ways,” he paused, “you can ask him if you want, anything about her, he’ll answer you,” 

She nodded, unconvinced.

He leaned on his elbows on the counter again, until he was inches from her, then whispered. “I’ll make him,” He grinned

She laughed, a delightful thing. Andrés ruffled her hair and went to pick up his book.

The necklace was nearly done, both of them started establishing their identities. Because of that, Martín was home less and less, but his feigned identity was important to have weight. Andrés didn’t mind being home with the kids alone; it was somewhat restricting though, he couldn’t trust two-ten-year olds not to burn the house down, so he avoided going out as much as could, and never slept out when Martín wasn’t home.

And when he was, Andrés took advantage of the time to perfect the plan with him. He’ll make it up for Marianne after the heist.

Not that it was all work, they all enjoyed quiet evenings together at home. One night, Martín was cleaning out his room, still finding stuff to bring out, while Andrés was making them dinner. And he had forgotten to take back his guitar. It stood leaning on one wall near the hallway.

The boy ran towards it and held it, and started randomly stringing, producing terrible, screeching sounds.

"Hey, what are you doing? You're gonna cut the strings,” Martín shouted and the kid put it down, pouting slightly. "Bring it here,” Martín added.

Gabriel carried it to Martín, who held it and started playing simple tunes. The kid grinned. "Do you like that?"

"Yeah, do a song." He ordered.

Martín smiled softly and started playing, the kid grinned wider. "Do you know it?" he nodded. A moment later he started singing too as he strung softly on the guitar, _El Dia Que Me Quieras._

Andrés found himself smiling, eyes fixed on Martín who closed his eyes as he sang. He sensed Elena sit up at the counter near him.

A few moments later, in the middle of the song, the kid started singing alongside Martín, knowing the words perfectly. Martín grinned as the kid sat in front of him on the arm of the sofa. He hung his head backwards and mimicked stringing on a guitar as he sang loudly, covering Martín's deep voice with his childish one. Andrés chuckled as he watched him.

They finished and Andrés clapped softly, laughing. The kid jumped off the chair and started bowing theatrically to them. Martín reached to ruffle his hair, seemingly instinctively.

He sat down again next to Martín, tilting his head to smile at him. Martín raised his eyebrow and handed him the guitar. Gabriel reached for it, it was almost too big for him, hiding most of his body as put it on his lap.

"You're holding it wrong", Martín tutted, "Here". He reached to him, fixing it between the boy's hands, then held his small hands between his own, fixing them in the right places. The boy was silent, malleable with Martín as Andrés watched. 

Classic. The one skill he picks is also Martín’s.

He gestured for Elena to bring him his sketchbook, and after adjusting the oven, leaned on the counter and started painting them. 

Since that night, the kid would observe any time in the day when Martín looked free to grab the guitar then run to him. Martín couldn't escape him if he wanted, his boy was as persistent as Martín himself when he wanted something. And he wanted to learn it badly. Andrés have to steal him away regularly, he barely spends any time with him alone out of work, which is pleasurable, yes, but they used to have their alone time, talking quietly over a bottle of wine, or sharing comfortable silence, Andrés listening to the rhythm of his breaths as he painted. Now as the twins got more and more comfortable around them, they barely let either of them go. Familiarity bred more demands.

He was pretty smart too, picked it up quickly. He would stay for hours by himself in the attic or any empty corner practicing whatever new thing Martín has taught him the previous day.

Andrés promised that if he did the 'job' perfectly he would buy him one, which got his attention, and the attention of his twin who also realized could be rewarded.

"Alright. Kids, come here", Martín called out to them. "Sit"

"We told you about a summer project", the kids nodded, "Martín and I have been working on it to perfect it for you"

Martín and him explained it all, removing only the parts that they were supposed to do.

"Now, as I said, think of it as a play, as we said.” Martín said.

"Okay, it's not difficult, but it's not easy either, you have to focus, or people won't see the characters because unlike a play, it’ll be real. And very, very important for those people to believe you.” Andrés added, and was only met with incomprehension. 

Andrés explained it all patiently. He tried to make it as something else at first, just for trial’s sake, but just as Martín feared and Andrés knew, they couldn’t. The heist wouldn’t work unless the kids understand what they are doing, since they will be very much hands on.

"That's stealing,” Martín's daughter declared, nonchalantly.

Andrés breathed deeply. "That's the wrong way to see it"

She raised her eyebrows. 

"It's art."

"How is this art?" the boy asked.

Andrés pulled Martín's plan and waved it in front of them. "Isn't that the most beautiful painting you've ever seen?"

No reaction.

Andrés sighed. 

"Okay, listen-"

"They're ours.” Martín cut him off, walking closer to them. “They have been stolen from us. From you two as well. Do you know where these jewelry came from? These diamonds and gold? It was mined from your home, from your mother's home", he paused, took a timid glance at Andrés, then knelt in front of them, "from your father's home,” he stressed and the children stared back at him with his eyes, "They stole it and others kept stealing it until it reached this place", he leaned in closer, both listening intently. "We're only taking back what belongs to us,” he smiled.

"And you're going to have so much fun. It'll be exactly like a play, like an opera. And you'll be the lead characters. You'll get to dress up and all. What do you say?", Andrés asked.

The kids looked at each other for a moment, then turned and smiled at him. Martín's smile.

Also, Martín's sense of morality. Perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be a stranger, you'll find me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nharidy).


End file.
